Cold Countries, Warm Hearts
by EmoMyusicFox
Summary: Canada is being noticed by Russia, who is the only person who does, and that makes Canada really happy. But as their friendship grows, does the pair want to be only friends, or something more? (RusCan, offhand pairings of UsUk and SpaMano; Cover art belongs to Canada-Hetalia-DJ)
1. Chapter 1

"This meeting is dismissed." says Germany at the front of the room. Everyone suddenly gets up and walks out of the room, or socialized with one another.

"Bonjour Matthew! You're having a birthday next week, are you not? Let me host a party for my little one!" France sneaks up on me a lot.

"No. I don't want parties or anything, especially one thrown by you ever again. Remember last year?" I respond.

Last year on New Years, France hosted a party at his house and invited everyone. It seemed mild enough, so I joined. The party had so much alcohol, I could smell it before I went inside his house. Everyone was drunk, and they broke 3 windows. Britain woke up wearing only his boxers, America was attached to the ceiling fan, France was making out with a pillow, Germany passed out cuddling Italy in the living room, and Russia was still drinking. The hangover they had was so bad America and France were crying, and all three were stuck at France's for 2 days getting over it to drive home. I do _not_ want that to happen at my house.

"Okay, maybe I overdid it a little, but w-"

I interrupt him. "_No."_

Then, Kumajiro wakes up from his nap on the floor. "Hungry. Want food." He says.

"I gotta go feed Kumaju. Bye France!" I say walking hastily out the door with Kumajiro in my arms.

The meeting was in Spain this time, so I had to take a plane here. When we arrive at the Spanish airport, I used an app to translate, because there's an app for everything. After I put my shoes and accessories in the small tub and it runs through the X-Ray machine, I walk through the metal detector, Kumajiro following behind.

"Excuse me, Sir, is that a polar bear?" The security guard asks.

"Yeah, but he's not any polar bear, huh Kumaju?"

Kumajiro looks at the guard. "Well, _duh._ I talk for maple's sake." He was a little grumpy from having to wake up at the meeting.

I show the guard my license for him and he lets me pass through. We make it to the plane, when suddenly I remember something.

"Oh! I forgot to feed you! I'm so sorry... Here." I search through my backpack and find any polar bear's favorite food-seal. I hand him a few slices on emergency paper plates I brought and he digs in.

A few moments pass, and I see us lift from the ground. I check that all of Kuma's stuff is here (which isn't much), alone with mine. With a small final bump, we're in the air, above the city lights, every person below like small specs. I stare out the window in wonder until my eyes won't stay open any longer, and I fall into a deep sleep.

**A/N:**

**Sorry for such a short chapter! I have more that'll be longer, so no worries, 'kay? -MyuFox**


	2. Chapter 2

I wake up to see the ocean below us, and I can tell I've been asleep for a few hours. I glance at Kumajiro, and he's fast asleep, as always. A flight attendant offers a blanket, and I gladly accept. I take out my Gameboy from my pack and start to play. I can't seem to focus on anything, like I have something on my mind. But, what is it? I can't think of anything unusual that happened at the meeting or during the flight.

_I need to retrace my steps._ _That'll help me figure it out, I'm bored anyway._

_I enter the Spanish meeting room. Everyone is busy with their conversations, and I don't bother them, Except for Russia, who seems to be all alone. I wonder... How come everyone thinks he's a scary person? No one talks about it, like its taboo. Is he really that much of a threat outside of the Nation aspect? He's always smiling, even if its a creepy smile. He's always in a relatively good mood, and doesn't cause problems between others. Maybe I'm thinking too much about it._

_As I space out, someone walks up behind me._

_"Who are you again? You look sick."_

_I quickly focus, and turn my head to the voice I heard. I was... Russia? Why is he talking to me?_

_"I-I'm Canada. Matthew?" I try to spark his memory._

_He shows a realization look on his face. "Ah, Comrade Matvey, da?"_

_I breathe a sign of relief, then smile. "At least you don't mistake me for America."_

_"Well, other people might think you're him sometimes, but I don't. I would have taken action already if you were." He gives me a creepy smile. "Kolkolkol."_

And that's all I remember, besides boring meeting stuff as usual. Why is it that I remember that? Russia scares me, but I brush it off when he does. How come that is so significant? I guess it's because it's the first somewhat normal conversation we've had together.

As I ponder that thought, I fall asleep once again.

"Waaaaaake uuuuuuup what's-your-name! We landed." Says a certain bear trying to wake me up.

"Lassoed-moi dormir un peu plus longtemps..."

"Come onnnnnnn I wanna go homeeeee!"

I manage to stand up and go to a nearby café and drink some coffee. Fully awake, we get in a cab to go home.

The cab stops. We run out of the car and I unlock the door and step inside.

"Home sweet home!" I smile.

I sit down on the couch and start to play video games. Kumajiro watches, and hours after hours pass. Occasionally, he gets up and snatches a few seal meats to eat.

"I'm bored... It's still about 2am... Al's still up. Should I call him to come over?" I ask.

"Who?"

"Hamburger boy."

"No matter what I say, you'll still invite him over anyway."

I nod and call Al.

It rings three times, and my brother picks up.

"What's up dude!" He says.

"Hey Al... I'm bored. Can you come over? I can't play one player games any longer."

"Sure! As long as I can bring beer."

"I don't care what you bring, just don't tear up my house please."

"I'll be there! Give me a little less than an hour!" He hangs up.

_I need friends..._

An hour passes, and my doorbell rings. "Come in!" I try to yell but my voice doesn't go as loud as anticipated.

The door opens and Alfred comes in, holding a six pack in each hand, and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

He immediately drops his stuff and sits down on the floor in front of the couch. He takes out the drinks from the cardboard casings and sets them down in two rows; one for me, and one for him. Every game, Al ends up drinking one whole can. I drink the same way, and we both end up tipsy.

"Is the room spinning? Or's it jus me?" I slurr.

"It has to spinning... But it's because the hero level in here is ov'r 9000! Hahah... Get it? No? Okayyy..." He lays down on the floor and falls asleep.

I turn off the console and go to lay on the couch, but a sleeping Kumajiro is laying there. I let him be and drop to the floor and sleep there instead.

_Translations_

French:

Lassier -moi dormir un peu plus longtemps - Let me sleep a little longer

Russian:

Da - Yes

**I'm sorry if my translations were wrong, I just used Google translate :P -MyuFox**


	3. Chapter 3

I can remember the day that I met Russia. Not the work meeting, the friends meeting. When we first established a bond. Well, sort of.

_I stand wandering around the grounds surrounding the meeting building. We're in America's capital this month, and I haven't really explored the back area of the place. I end up walking into a greenhouse._

_It's a room full of flowers. Flowers in baskets hanging from the ceiling, huge patches of daisies and lilies and roses. There's probably over two hundred kinds of plants in here. But, out of all places, my eyes rest on a door in the back reading 'Sunflower Room'. I don't know why I went in. I just felt like it. _

_The other side of the door isn't a room at all, but actually a secret exit to a field of sunflowers. A huge hill, covered in the yellow flowers. But the most recognizable feature isn't the flowers, but the man in the field. Russia is so happy looking, like a child on Christmas Day. It's adorable. Cute, in fact._

_He falls backwards into the knee-high flowers and just lays there. I approach him, and his eyes are shut with his mouth curved into his signature smile. You've never seen him so happy looking before. You turn to leave, but he grabs your leg._

_"Stay here with me." He commands. You follow as ordered, laying down next to him. For a while, pure silence is in the air. During that peaceful time, slowly I move my hand to lace my fingers between his. He willingly grabs my hand back and doesn't complain. Embarassed, you look in the other direction._

_He finally speaks up after ten minutes of silence. "Sunflowers are my favorite, da?"_

_He smiles a genuine smile, not a creepy one, but a genuine smile. It's so childish that I have to stop myself from giggling._

But, probably Russia forgot about that day. It will never change my feelings, though.

"_You may be able to forget me, but I have you stuck in my head like a tattoo, and those are painful to remove."_

It's snowing again in the cold country of Russia, and he stays inside reading a book, waiting for the blizzard to pass. But he can't concentrate on the novel. His thoughts keep retreating to that Canadian boy.

Why? What is this feeling in his heart? He drinks some more liquor.

_I am Russia, I shouldn't care about anything except me and vodka! How can I do that when he keeps interrupting my thoughts?!_

The Russian decides to call his sister Ukraine for help, knowing she won't tell anyone.

Three rings pass.

"Hello?" Ukraine sounds as chipper as always getting to talk to her brother on the phone. Never getting to meet in person because of her boss is saddening, but it's alright if some connection remains between the two.

"Ukraine? It's Russia... Can you talk?"

"Of course we can!" She knows Russia isn't like this, needing someone to talk to. _I must take this very seriously. _

__"Promise not to tell?" He makes sure that she swears to keep is a secret.

"Cross my heart and hope to die, little brother. Now, what do you need to talk about?"

He fidgets with the corner of his scarf. "Well, you know the country Canada? I can't seem to get him off my mind... Tell me what this is. I don't know what this means..."

_He must be in love!_ She grins. _This will be very fun!_ "Well, you need to elaborate for me, Russia. I can't help if I don't have enough information."

Russia is very glad that his sister can't see him blushing on the other end of the line. "When I see him, I just want to see him smile... and laugh... and take all the pain away. I know how he hates to be ignored, I've seen his rage."

This peaks the girl's interest. _He is totally in love. _"What do you mean, 'seen his rage'?"

"I remember one day I was in the Red Square."

**(I made this part in English, but pretend they're speaking Russian, except when he's speaking to Canada. Translating this would be annoying for both of us)**  
**  
**_"Hey, Mr. Ivan! Do you want to make an igloo with us?" One of the children asked._

_I shake my head. "I am no good at that stuff!" I smile at the kids. I am actually very good at it, but making it with them will ruin the fun. And I probably won't be able to fit inside anyways. "But can I watch?"_  
_  
They look so disappointed. "No, you have to do it with us! Please?"_  
_  
"Fine, I will try. But do not get your hopes up!" Their faces immediately lit up._  
_  
The kids know how much Mr. Ivan likes to play with them, and how he teases them in a way only he can. Every Thursday they go to the Red Square to see him, unless he's at a meeting._  
_  
"Follow us!" They run over to an area right outside of there, near a lake. A man is playing hockey on his own, and he's very skilled._  
_  
As I proceed to sculpt a block of snow, my eyes keep diverting to the man at the lake every so often._  
_  
An hour passes quickly. "We're done Mr. Ivan! Look!"_  
_  
The igloo turned out pretty good. "This is very impressive! But it's getting late, shouldn't everyone be getting home?" It's true. The sun was setting as we spoke._  
_  
Everyone groans. "You're right... Well, see you next Thursday, Mr. Ivan!" They were saddened to go, as was I, but no one was sad to leave because they know next week I will be back._  
_  
The man on ice is still there, never once taking a break for the whole hour. I decide to talk to him. I walk to the lake's edge, and as I do he seems to be familiar. Blonde hair dancing right above his shoulders, with a curl in the middle waving left and right. A red maple leaf is on the front of his white hoodie, and his hockey stick has a decorative leaf as well._  
_  
"Won't you get cold only wearing that?" I say from a distance, still trudging through the snow. The man is furiously hitting his puck with his hockey stick and letting it fly to some homemade-looking targets, smacking them straight in the middle._  
_  
When he turns around, I know who he is instantly. "Russia?" the Canadian asks in surprise._  
_  
"Why are you taking your anger out on hockey?" I ask. Never before have I seen him this... bold. He's a whole differnet person on the ice._  
_  
"Can you play with me? I have goals I can set up and an extra pair of skates!" Yep, he's more bold on ice. I haven't ever heard him even talk this loud._  
_  
His eyes are begging me to play with him. "Sure."___

When the story ends, Ukraine is ecstatic. My little brother's in love! How sweet! "Well you definitely are naiive, I can tell you that. And, you are in love." She squeals.

Russia turns crimson. "But I am not a woman! I... What will others think?"

_"_You really don't know about any of the nations, do you? They don't care-some are probably gay. Just do what you want. You're the great Mother Russia, remember?" She tries to encourage him.

"I-If you say so... But how can I get his attention?"

She thinks for a moment. "Just go be yourself and when you two get a little closer ask him for pancakes. He loves them!"

_"Doesn't everyone know that?" _The tall man thinks.

"So, that's it? I just take him out, da?"

"Right! Your heart will tell you what to do, brother." Ukraine is very confident in her little brother.

**(A/N: Sorry if I accidentally switch from first-person to second-person views... I'm working on two fanfics and they don't have the same POV. I cursed myself, sorry... :) Cookies for you)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Warning: UsUk appears, so don't say I didn't warn you! Enjoy :)!**

I wake up to a pounding headache and see Alfred under a blanket. "Can't the lights just shut up... This shit is why I only drink beer... Imagine drinking vodka..." He mutters.

Grabbing a few aspirin from the cabinet, I give a couple to Alfred and myself.

"Aspirin." I say in my normal, quiet voice.

He mumbles something incomprehensible, and I presume it's a thank you.

I start to make pancakes, mixing the batter and pouring it on the griddle. I make about 15; Al doesn't eat as much as I do when it comes to pancakes.

My brother walks in. _Speak of the devil. _The house phone rings, and I immediately pick it up.

"Hello?"

"This is Russia. The next meeting will be in Moscow at my place. Tell your brother this, I do not like to speak with him, da? Goodbye." He hangs up.

"Hey Al, the next meeting will be at Russia's place, in Moscow, okay? He wanted me to tell you too." I say to my brother.

"Dammit! Why do we have to go sto the commie's?" He looks really irritated.

"Stop calling him 'commie'. You can't judge people by their past."

"You sound like England."

That shuts me up. I hate being compared to that damn idiot! He hates papa France, but I'm pretty sure that either pére or Alfred are banging that guy. Maybe even at the same time! The thought is sickening.

"Well, maybe if you would stop _screwing England, _everyone might get comfortable with the idea." That was the most daring thing I have ever said. I swallow, waiting for the punch to come. But it didn't. Opening my eyes, Alfred looks to the point of tears. His pitiful state really makes me feel bad about what I said.

"What if it was true? What would happen?" His tone was serious. His lower lip quivers slightly.

_Is he actually afraid of my opinion?_

Canada stands there dumbstruck. Really? It was just a lucky guess! But, he am still happy for the guy.

"I'm happy for you. I know how you liked England for a while, okay? Just be happy. Be. Happy." Those words make his brother very happy. He runs out the door to go see England, carrying his stuff. So he's going to be spending the night with him...

Leaving me alone to think of Russia. His purple eyes that almost match in color. That platinum blonde hair. His smile. His laugh. His scarf. Everything about him. He may be crazy, but everyone has a little bit of madness inside of them. Some just show theirs. And that's what I secretly love.

I decide to call France for advice, knowing he won't tell other people about this except maybe Spain and Prussia, and he will keep those under secrecy. He _is _my dad. No matter what people think, Papa France isn't an insensitive rapist.

_Ring, Ring, Ring._ "'Ello?" His suave tone answers.

"Hey pére... I was wondering if I could ask you on... Um... Love?" I was so embarrassed that I began to forget about the topic of his question.

The Frenchman gasps. "You have fell in love? This is wonderful! I won't tell anyone yet, though. I understand."

"Thanks, France."

"Now, who is it? I want to know every detail!" He switches to gossipy teenager mode.

I spill the beans on the day in the sunflowers, causing some 'Ooohs' and 'Aaahs', and about the day when I wanted him to skate with me. In the end Francis was giddy in anticipation.

"You are totally head-over-heels in love! Go and buy some new clothes with me. We need you perfect for months at a time so you may impress the man."

It sounds like he's more happy than I am. But the I agree. Anything for him, to earn that smile.

_Translations_

French:

Pére: Father

**(Bad chapter is bad... Oops. I feel like I rushed the UsUk thing... But there's always room for improvement! Tell me anything I need to fix if your OCD can't handle it... And ideas are always welcome! Seriously, writer's block is horrible. Waffle for your pancake.)**


	5. Chapter 5

It's been a few days after the call. I remember that I asked France for advice, but how'd I get into _this_? He actually flew to my house, forced me to pack my things (which included one embarrassing talk on why I have vodka), and fly back to Paris with him. According to him, I needed to 'get a total makeover'. Not sure if I should take that as an insult.

So now we're here; Paris, France. The city of love. And the city of hell.

I didn't think France could get anymore designers on the case, but somehow it did (or more on the lines of his checkbook). He wouldn't stop bugging me to do this for him, so I finally caved.

I have dozens of outfits to try on. _Literally. _It's tons of clothes (they aren't ugly, but still). He's having a blast making me _model clothes. _A professional photographer and everything. According to him, I 'look flawless' and have the perfect model body.

Back to the present.

I'm trying on the fifth outfit this hour, and this time it's a little different. I usually have some button-up white shirt that never has all the buttons up anyway, but this one is a brown shirt that the sleeves go a little past the elbow, and in gold an elegant design on the bottom right corner. Dark green skinny jeans and dark brown knee high lace-up boots, complete with a light green scarf that also has golden designs and a metal pendant. They even made me new glasses for this!

I can't say it isn't fun, though.

I get my hair brushed and step out of the changing room. France peers over from talking to a designer and swoons.

"This is it! You will model this, then go straight to your date with Russia!"

Wait, _what?_ What date?

He sees my confusion and explains. "I organized you two to meet at a café! I didn't talk to him directly; Just notified his boss. I 'ave made sure that he doesn't have an idea what's going on, I said it's a business meet-up. This is the last outfit, so just model this last one and you're done."

I head to the photography set, and for about twenty minutes it's purely pictures, pictures, pictures.

When we finished, I immediately walked off the set and went to France one more time to ask the question that he always avoided.

"Why do we have to take all of these pictures?" I ask. He tenses up, and lets out a deep breath.

"T-These people work for a magazine... and your now featured in that magazine... On the front page..." He trails off.

I froze. People are going to _see me on the front of a magazine. _Oh. My. God. He is such an ass. He knows I hate being the very center of attention. And he did this anyway.

But should I _really _be mad? He did this all for me. I should be grateful, and thank him. I still will feel a _little, tiny _bit of anger for not asking me.

I do feel like an idiot, though. Why didn't I object to the photos?

Maybe I thought it was fun.

I hug him really quick. "Thanks Papa."

He gets all giddy and squealy for a second. "You called me Papa!"

"Where's this cafe-thing going to be?" I won't say the word d-date... It's too embarrassing.

"It's going to be in..." He checks his watch. "Fifteen minutes. You should hurry."

"Okay, will do." I turn to get in my car, but I realize _I don't have a car. _

He picks up what I'm thinking and offers his car. Or more specifically, his Bugatti.

He practically shoves me into the driver side and tosses me the keys.

"Please don't wreck her." That's all he says and speeds off.

I put the key in the ignition and I pull out of the parking lot of his house and onto the highway. Yeah, his house has a parking lot.

I search through the GPS until I find one labeled 'Matthew's Date 3'. Way to be subtle.

Only a few miles away. Not very far, then. That's good.

The drive takes only about ten minutes and I finally reach my destination. A quaint little café with a couple tables for two in the front of it, and through the windows I see on the inside a bunch of tables for three and a case full of pastries. I search to find Russia, but he's not here yet. It _is _a long way from Moscow to Paris. But I'm patient, so just waiting here will be fine.

A few moments pass, and I check my watch. 3:58 pm. Two minutes until I meet Russia. I feel small beads of sweat start to form from worry. Will he not show up? Wait, why would I want him to? Just more time to spend at home, watching some TV and feed Kuratiko (that's his name, right?). Since it's winter, I could try to see if snow will fall soon? I need to write that in my reminders... last time I didn't check, I was snowed in without enough seal meat and had to feed Kumahiko (again, what's his name?) pancakes. _He _didn't complain, but his stomach did, as well as the vet.

A tap on my shoulder snaps me out of it. "Privet, Matvey..." A certain Russian man asks, but abruptly stops his sentence. He just keeps... staring at me. A small blush covers his cheeks and he looks away.

"I-Is there something on my face?" I stammered. Wait, why'd I say that? That's the most cliche thing to say, period. He obviously was looking at my new glasses. I think.

"Nyet, Nyet. You just look different, that's all." He gets really flustered, and slightly bashful. "Not in a bad way, really... Matvey looks nice."

Now I blush, but manage to smile and try to play it off. I offer him a seat and he sits down in front of me.

"So what business did we have to discuss?" He said with an innocent smile.

I could've seriously walked out of there and got hit by a bus. Not a problem compared to what Russia will think when he hears it was a lie and France was just trying to hook us up. And he_hates flying. _I heard him mention it during a meeting once, in descriptive detail on all the different things that he would rather do than fly in a plane.

"Y-Y-You see, here's the thing... this wasn't a b-b-business meeting... Just something France organized..." I sputter out with a pleading please-don't-kill-me look.

Immediately he does that aura-thing and smiles with his eyes closed. "Did you help him?"

"N-No. He literally pushed me into his car after he gave me a run-down of the situation, and I couldn't just make you come over to see an empty chair, eh? That would be rude."

He calms down a little and peeks at me with his lilac eyes fixed to mine, then sighs and looks away again. "Well, I am already here. I might as tour Paris, da? I have only been here for meetings, so I had not very much time to look around."

I suddenly get an idea. "What if I took you around the city? My treat; It's an apology for that meaningless visit."

Russia's face immediately perks up. "Spasibo! But may we eat here as well? I haven't had anything since the plane..." He suggests.

Come to think of it, I haven't eaten for a while either. As is on cue, my stomach growls, and my face goes red as Russia just chuckles. I guess I'll just get the usual thing I get every time I go pretty much, well, anywhere.

A waitress heads out of the building and stops at our table, then asks us what we want to drink. In French.

Expecting to have to order for the both of us, I open my mouth to ask Russia what he wants to drink. He surprises me by _fluently _ordering for the both of us in French. Has he been studying up on it?

But according to what he just said, he ordered me coffee with a shot of maple syrup, which is pretty much what I drink usually.

"How did you know what I drink?" Is he a stalker? Or just a very, very, creepy mind reader?

He snickers, then answers with no lies. "You get the same thing every time we have a meeting: A medium coffee with a shot of maple syrup. Your brother always is asking you how you can drink such a strong substance, and you just say that it wakes you up. Every time the same answer. I notice you, unlike what you think."

The waitress returns holding two cups of coffee, sets them down on the table, and leaves.

Silence.

That's the only sound coming from either of us.

I'm not freaked out; Honestly, this feeling is great. He _notices me!_ Sees me as a person. How could only a few words make me feel this happy inside?

"Are you okay?"

I take a few sips of my coffee, then let myself smile. No-Scratch that. Grin like a fool.

"I'm better than okay, Ivan."

We finish off our drinks, have a pastry, and the waitress from before picks them up and I pay the small bill, then I stand up quickly as Russia follows suit, letting me guide the way.

Walking side-by-side, I show him the sights and wonders of Paris, saving the Eiffel Tower for last. We get into France's car and we visit the Arc de Triomphe, then we visited the Louvre. I got him to try crêpes (you have no idea how hard it was), macarons, and almost had him at wine. Almost.

Now the sun's setting, and the city lights are being turned on, making our faces have a colorful glow.

"Are you ready to see the city from high above?" I ask. He looks at me and nods quickly with a small, childish smile on his face and his eyes shut. Powdered sugar dots his upper lip, and he licks it off.

His eyes wander curiously like a child's would at an amusement park-full of wonder and pure glee.

"I have never thought that Paris would be so fascinating... It's all so pretty and warm." He points out, not letting his gaze leave the sights around him as we walk.

"Yeah... Nothing really gets old when you leave home, eh?" I ask, but I don't really expect an answer.

I can't believe that I'm touring the city of Paris with the "oh-so-scary" Russia! How come everyone's scared of him? I don't know why they think he's a man who commits unspeakable horrors. He's just has a big build and a bad past.

Time flies by and soon we arrive at the colossal structure.

"I never get tired of seeing this..." I say wistfully.

Paying the man at the front, I get us in and we take the stairs to a see-through lift. Luckily at the moment it's empty, so we get it all to ourselves.

"So pretty...! How does France not be excited to see this city every day? Especially from here at night!" He is fascinated, running back and forth from each side of the thing, trying to take in each angle of Paris.

It's kind of adorable.

I glance at my phone screen and it's getting late. Really late. And I have _forty-two messages. All from France._

"H-Hey... Do you even have a place to stay...?"

He glances back at me, with a look of confusion, then dread.

"...Shit."

He paces back and forth in the clear space, not looking down at the ant-sized tourists this time.

Finally, he stops and smiles. But in those eyes I see a weary glint, like he's unsure of what he's saying.

"I will just take a plane home, da? No need for stay. This was very fun, though." He tries to stay cool but I know he's worrying about it.

"There _is_ no planes ready at this time." I show him my phone screen, letting him see the time. "It's not even night anymore."

Russia's eyes widen and he freezes.

"...I'll let you stay at my place, if you'd like... I'll sleep on the couch." I offer.

He relaxes a bit and he half-smiles. "Spasibo, Matvey! Very much so! I hope you don't get sick going home, though... The temperature dropped a lot since a few minutes ago."

After he points that out, I feel the air chill my arms and my cheeks flush because of the cold. I rub my arms through my shirt to get warm.

Immediately we get back to the bottom of the tower and start the long trek to the - No, France's, car.

At this ungodly hour most of the shops are closed, but in the semi-darkness we can still make out the familiar signs of certain stores, like the bakery with the _wonderful _snacks and finally, _finally, _we found the café and that sleek car.

I quickly pull the keys from my pocket and press the unlock button, then sit down in the comfortable leather interior, then Russia does the samel.

He glances around inside for a little, partly in awe and partly in confusion.

"Is this your car?" He questions.

I shake my head, then answer simply. "France's."

The car lights up inside when I shove the keys in the ignition, desperate for some sort of heat. As soon as the vents blast me with the warm air I slide down in my seat while I bask there. When I turned the car on I didn't notice till now that the probably very expensive radio and blue led lights above the tires on the exterior flicked on. Really it all was too fancy for my taste.

Again the Russian is fascinated with the vehicle, looking in the rear view mirror to gaze at the accent lights outside and such.

The ride to home was pretty quiet, all of the silence between us filled with comfortable French songs.

After about five minutes my vacation home appears in the distance. It's a small house, no doubt, but it's homely in it's own way. The house stands on the corner of a four-way street, a church within walking distance.

"We're here~!" I chipped. I'm honestly pretty excited to be back in France. Usually I just stay here during meetings in the country but we haven't had one in quite some time, and I missed it.

Climbing out of the car I scramble through my mind, trying to remember the code for the door lock. I always lose my keys so I just thought that a digital lock system would be better.

I remember finally and I rush to the door.

"Three-Two-Nine-Eight" I subconsciously say as I press the lit-up buttons.

A clicking sound comes from it and I turn the knob.

"Matvey, come to think of it, where is your bear...?"

_Screech. _That was my train of thought, by the way.

"Umm... I think at... Yeah, at France's. He said that he'd take care of Kuma."

I step inside, greeted by the chilly, musky air that has gathered since my last visit. Faintly I smell maple syrup. A thin layer of dust coats most of my things, but the wind that whooshed in when I opened the door made it blow away partly.

I chuckle lightly. "Smells pretty old."

When I plop down on the couch, a puff of dust bunnies fly from the cushions, and I cough.

"Yep, it's pretty old. Should probably clean it."

Russia can't help but wander up the stairs, exploring the house and it's contents. I quickly follow him.

Each door we pass I point at it and tell him it's purpose.

"There's the bathroom, the bedroom, and my extra food storage closet."

"It is very adorable, this house." He peers over my shoulder and notices a few of my old pictures.

"What is that?" He questions, his eyes fixed on an old photo from around the 70's with my brother, France, and England. It's clear that France took the picture because him arm stretches to the left edge of the photograph, him holding the camera.

I lean on the railing of the staircase and explain. "Just a picture of the four of us from the 70's. I forced Arthur to be there, if you haven't already seen the scowl on his face. He just really didn't want to be near Papa."

For some reason Ivan starts to chuckle, and I blush at that.

"W-What's so funny?"

"It's not funny, it's cute! You call him Papa still...! I think it's adorable, Ufu~!"

I flush harder and smack him arm playfully.

"Shut up." I mutter, a small smile starting to cross my lips.

He stops laughing and we head downstairs once more.

"Ugh... I'm bored... You wanna watch something?" I suggest.

He shrugs. "What do you have?"

I hold out my hand and tick off all kinds of movies while my eyes stare at the ceiling in thought.

"Horror, comedy, adventure, TV shows, Asian movies, combat, some anime that Japan gave me, and more. Here, lemme show you."

I strut to a large floor-to-ceiling bookcase in the corner and grip the edge, then slowly pull it to the side, revealing a plethora of DVD's.

I flick a switch and lights from inside the shelves turn on, each a different bright color and labels categorizing everything.

"I think Frace may have gone overboard with the decorations, but..." I trail off.

We crowd around them and sort through the massive selection.

"Oh! And I have Netflix."

"Could we watch this?" Russia murmurs, holding up a case with Russian and English words.

"First Squad? I didn't know you were into anime, Ivan." I tease.

"Maybe I am." He raises his brows.

Flipping it over, I scan the plot over. I couldn't remember what it was about, since I watched it three years ago.

"It's even set in your country." I hand him the DVD once more. "Lucky choice, Ivan."

I _think _he was lucky, anyway.

We'll just have to see it for ourselves, eh?


End file.
